Just Like a Waving Flag
by three-days-late
Summary: Stories about victory, defeat, and everything in between from the FIFA World Cup in South Africa.
1. Groups 1

**So, I've decided to split off the World Cup stuff and just put it all in one story so it doesn't mix with one of the other one-shots, since I have apparently developed Hetalia headcannon concerning the World Cup. No, I'm not weird...I'm completly normal...**

**Please remember that I wrote these right after the last match mentioned, so everything that is said between the characters is without knowledge of what happens later, and enjoy.  
**

**

* * *

South Korea 2-0 Greece**

"Yes!" Korea shouted and jumped for joy as the final whistle blew, securing his three points, "Take that! Soccer originated in Korea you know, Greece, so it's only fair that I…Greece?"

Greece, who was seated next to him on the bench, was slumped over asleep with a cat on his lap.

"…Did you sleep through the whole match?"

**

* * *

England 1-1 USA**

"Rubbish," England muttered as he stormed into the locker room, "Absolute bollocks if you ask me."

"Hahaha!" America laughed, "C'mon England, we tied! That means we're-"

"Don't. Say. It."

"That means we're equal!" England smacked his head into a nearby locker.

"You didn't even earn that goal…" he muttered, "utter rubbish."

"Relax England," America said as he snuck up behind him. Suddenly England was turned around and shoved against the locker while his hands where moved above his head and something silky wrapped around them.

"Ties aren't bad things, you know," America whispered in his ear.

**

* * *

Germany 4-0 Australia**

"The match is over," Germany informed Australia, who had sunk to the floor in the fetal position sometime after the third goal. He heard the man whimper. "Would you like to know the final score?"

Australia groaned but sat up and looked at him.

"Four nothing."

He groaned and banged his head against the ground again. "Not even one point?"

"No," Germany scribbled something in his note pad as the other nation's koala rubbed Australia's shoulder in a comforting gesture, "You still have two other games to play."

"Don't remind me mate," he sighed as he sat up again.

"Are you giving up? Did I crush your spirit?"

"No way," Australia jumped back up on his feet, full of the fire that he showed before the match started, "I'm not out of this thing yet mate."

"If you say so," Germany scribbled down something else.

This was _his _year, and nothing was going to stop him now.

**

* * *

Netherlands 2-0 Denmark**

Netherlands sighed as he looked down at the pitiful Dane.

"The match ended a while ago," he tapped him with his foot to see if he was still alive, "get up."

"Own goal…my fault…"

Oh dear, he was beating himself up over that wasn't he? "You would've lost anyway. You can't win if you don't score."

"But I scored on myself! That's like…like-"

Netherlands quickly placed a hand on Denmark's mouth. "Don't say it," he waited for the confirming nod before removing his hand and leaning back. "If you keep dwelling on that then you'll never win."

"Dwell? But did you see that goal!" He smirked. Netherlands was confused, "I bounced it off that guy's shoulder! It was totally awesome!"

Denmark earned a smack on the head.

**

* * *

Japan 1-0 Cameroon**

Japan blinked and looked at the score. Then he looked at it and blinked again.

He…he actually won? He was in South Africa…and he won?

His team was jumping up and down shouting in there excitement. Japan was tempted to join them, but he saw Cameroon coming towards him and changed his mind, opting to just stand there like a deer in headlights. The African was much bigger than him. If he wanted to get violent about this, Japan didn't know if he could take him.

"Hey," Cameroon's voice cut through Japan's thoughts. He extended a hand. "Good game."

Japan shook it, "Thank you. You played well."

"Yeah, well now I need to get my act together and win the next two," he sighed, "Well, if I had to lose, at least it was to you. This was your first win on foreign soil right?"

He nodded and smiled.

"I look forward to playing you again in the next round."

**

* * *

Italy 1-1 Paraguay**

"Veneziano?" the Northern half of Ital looked up to see the Southern half walk into the locker room.

"Romano," he nodded as his brother sat down next to him.

"That was close, idiot," he muttered, "We were losing there for a moment."

"But we didn't lose, Romano," Italy reminded him.

"But it was close," the elder sighed, "It's tougher this year."

"Yes, it is. But that should make the next round interesting."

"I suppose," Romano sighed again, "You're still going to hold back and fuck around like you always do though, aren't you?"

His brother gained a malicious grin that most of the other nations wouldn't associate with Veneziano, but Romano knew better. He only saw it every four years, but it was nonetheless a part of the younger's arsenal.

"We should let the other's have their fun. If we just crushed them now, no one would want to play with us."

Romano's grin matched his brothers.

**

* * *

New Zealand 1-1 Slovakia**

New Zealand held his head in his hands. It was over. He was glad to have come to the World Cup again, but it would have been nice…just this once…

"GOAL!" the announcers shouted. New Zealand looked up in disbelief. He had held on so well; for Slovakia to score another goal this close to the end was just.

But then he realized. And he stared, in disbelief for a completely different reason.

That was _his_ goal, _his_ players that were dancing around the field. For the first time ever, he had scored at this biggest and greatest football arena.

New Zealand's grin widened as the final whistle blew. Not only had he scored, he _tied_ Slovakia. He wasn't out of this thing yet!

As he jumped onto the field to celebrate with his team, he caught Slovakia glaring at him out of the corner of his eye.

Perhaps he should stay away from him for a while.

**

* * *

Switzerland 1-0 Spain**

"What…?" Spain sank to his knees as the final whistle blew. "But…this is my year…"

He stared at the field where Switzerland and Liechtenstein were celebrating the Swiss victory. It didn't feel right. That should be him and Romano out there celebrating. This was just…

"Hey, bastard," he looked over to see his Romano standing there awkwardly. "You gonna be okay?"

Spain smiled at him, and the Italian was reminded of gold and blood and empires long gone.

"Don't worry Romano. I'm not losing again."


	2. Groups 2

**Argentina 4-1 South Korea**

Korea just stared. He knew Argentina was good, but he might have forgotten just how good. Or maybe he just chose to ignore it. That was a mistake.

Oh well, he wasn't out of this thing yet! And at least his boys managed to score a goal. Let's see Greece try to top that!

Korea really hoped he didn't.

**

* * *

Greece 2-1 Nigeria**

Greece leaned back and smiled. He had won. More importantly he had come back _from behind_ and won. Let's see Turkey beat that, oh wait, he wasn't even here. Point to Greece.

"Congratulations Greece-san," he turned around to see Japan standing there smiling at him, "I'm glad you won, but, you know, if both of us come in second, we won't be able to face each other until the final."

Greece couldn't help but smile back, "I guess I'll see you there then."

**

* * *

France 0-2 Mexico**

France couldn't believe it. He was in the _final_ with Italy last time and lost on _penalty kicks_. He _won _this thing in '98. How could he lose now, to _Mexico_?

"Your time is up, old man," Mexico chuckled, "Face it, this just isn't your year."

"I suppose it's not…" he admitted.

"You even gonna be able to beat South Africa?"

"You _tied _South Africa."

"My point." Mexico smirked. France was annoyed.

He sighed and sat up. His team wasn't playing like a team. His coach, well, quite frankly he hated the man, and his people were ashamed of them all.

"…I will most certainly try."

**

* * *

Germany 0-1 Serbia**

"The hell was that all about Spain?" Prussia raged at his friend after the game in the locker room.

"Whatever do you mean Prussia?" the Spaniard asked innocently.

"You _know_ what I fucking mean!" the albino grabbed Spain's jersey and yanked him forward to glare at him more directly, "What the fuck was up with the yellow cards?"

"Maybe you should have played a cleaner game, Prussia."

Germany decided it was probably best to go make sure no one else entered the locker room to get in the line of fire. Spain could handle whatever Prussia threw at him, he was sure, and if he couldn't, well, those yellow cards _were_ ridiculous…

**

* * *

Slovenia 2-2 USA**

"Yes!" America screamed as the ball sailed into the goal the third time that half. "You think you could beat me down, Slovenia? Hahaha! The Hero _always_ comes from behind to win!"

Slovenia, for his part, looked shocked as his World Cup dreams slid away from him. America couldn't blame him; his awesome did that to people most of the time.

Just as he was planning the perfect way to shove this in England's face, he noticed the ref on the field, blowing his whistle and waving his arms, almost as if he was trying to disallow the goal. But that wasn't right, because America knew his boys didn't do anything wrong…

"No…What?" the nation shouted as he tried to storm the field. The coach, three assistants, and half of the bench had to hold him back from storming the field and beating the crap out of the poor mortal ref.

"You can't do that!" he shouted along with his fans, "You can't just take my win from me!"

"Alfred, calm down," someone, probably the coach, said in his ear, "This is only going to make things worse. We just have to deal with it and move on."

Eventually America calmed down enough to be dragged back to the bench to watch the rest of the game, which ended in a tie, even though it should have been _his_.

He sighed. Well, he'd just have to beat Algeria all the more now. He really didn't want to be in that guy's shoes right now…

**

* * *

England 0-0 Algeria**

England would have given anything to be in Algeria's shoes right now. Or rather, just not his own.

To be able to have caught his boys on such an off day was truly a miracle that only came along once a century. It happened in 1950 against America (which was total bollocks, even the younger nation had admitted to that later) and apparently it had happened here.

He couldn't look his team in the eye, even after they got booed off the field _by their own fans_. This was a low point for him, probably the lowest he's ever been…_football _wise certainly, but this might be his all time lowest point.

"Oh, did Mr. I Invented the Game get his cute little butt handed to him?" France smirked when he finally left the locker room.

"Oh piss off frog," England snapped, "at least I didn't _lose_."

"No, but you didn't win, like Slovenia did. You didn't even come _close_ like America did," he tutted, "face it Angleterre, this just isn't your year."

If France had expected him to just crawl in a hole after that statement, England was more than happy to prove him wrong.

**

* * *

Netherlands 1-0 Japan**

Ah, well, Japan knew it was going to be tough to beat Netherlands. He would say that his friend was probably the biggest competition in the group, so he wasn't terribly disappointed that he lost. At least he held him to one goal.

"Oi, Japan," Netherlands called to him after the game ended, so Japan walked over to talk with him. The orange clad nation nervously stuck out his hand, "Good match."

"Indeed," Japan took his hand to shake it and beamed up at him, "Congratulations on winning the group."

"Nothing's official yet," he scratched the back of his head, "If Cameroon beats Denmark and then me, well…"

"I'm sure, even if he does win, you'll do splendidly in your next match."

"Well, congratulations on getting second then."

Japan frantically waved his arms in front of him. "It's far too soon to congratulate me on such things, Netherlands-san!"

"Che," he pulled out his pipe and a match to light it, "I know you. You're not going to lose again."

Japan had to agree with that.

**

* * *

Ghana 1-1 Australia**

"Man!" Australia pumped his fists in the air, "That was one hell of a match mate!"

"Glad you enjoyed it at least," Ghana huffed and turned away, "You don't have to face Germany next with only four points."

"Yeah, I already got thoroughly thrashed by him," he laughed, "but he's only got three points you know. You're leading the group! Congrats!"

She gave him a look before turning away again.

"Don't be like that mate. You've got a better chance than me of going on."

"So you're just giving up?"

"Hell no! I've still got a fighting chance. Of course, the emphasis is on the fighting there…"

"If that's so," she turned to grin at him, "then I will see you in the finals."

"Count on it, mate."

**

* * *

Cameroon 1-2 Denmark**

"Yes!" Denmark cheered as the final whistle blew, signaling that he still had a chance to advance after all. "Did you see that Norway? I'm still in this!"

"Congratulations Denmark," Finland shouted back at him. Sweden nodded and gave him a smile while Iceland blew extra hard on his vuvuzela (where and why he got one Denmark had no idea). Norway made sure he had Denmark's full attention before shooting him a congratulatory smile and swirling the Danish flag in his hand. Now that that was settled, there was one thing left to do.

"Hey Cameroon!" the larger nation was busy brooding off on the side of the field when Denmark ran over and shot out his hand, "Good game. Seriously dude, you played awesome!"

Cameroon nodded and shook the hand, "You did too."

"Sorry you had to get knocked out," he went on, "but hey, if one of us had to go on, I'm glad it was me!" he laughed. The African did not look very amused.

"I'll bet."

"You'll give Netherlands hell right?" Denmark smirked, "I mean, just 'cause you can't advance doesn't mean you have to make it easy for him? You know, upset him a little. Show him this tourney ain't just a cakewalk," he winked. Cameroon couldn't help but smirk as well.

"I think I can do that."

**

* * *

Italy 1-1 New Zealand**

New Zealand couldn't believe it. He _tied_ Italy. He _held _the returning champions. He was lucky the bench was there or else he probably would have collapsed on the ground when his knees gave out after the final whistle.

Australia would probably take him out to celebrate. If England was drunk enough to forget his miseries, maybe he and America could come too…

"You bastard!" New Zealand turned his head to see a very angry Romano storming across the field towards him, "You _know_ that fucking goal was offsides and yet you…" Oh no, he was getting closer.

"Fratello!" Veneziano shouted as he grabbed his brother from behind, "No! You can't kill him yet!"

"I'll do whatever I like! Damnit Veneziano, we shouldn't have tied!"

"But Fratello, it's alright!" the younger brother struggled to pull his brother back, "we can always get him later _if_ he does manage to advance…"

Romano stopped in his tracks, "Right, of course," before turning send New Zealand a smirk that sent shivers down his spine. "Don't think this is over kid…" Both Italies walked away after that.

New Zealand gulped. Tying really wasn't all it's cracked up to be.

**

* * *

Chile 1-0 Switzerland**

Switzerland buried his head in his hands and shook his head. So many missed opportunities that should have resulted in goals…but alas, what had happened in the past was in the past. He was still ahead of Spain, and that was a place he would like to stay, lest he either fail to advance or worse, get second and have to face Brazil. His boys weren't ready to face Brazil just yet.

"Bruder," he heard a soft voice say. Switzerland looked up to see Liechtenstein standing there in a Swiss jersey, "are you going to be okay?"

"L-Liechtenstein! What are you doing here?"

"I came to support you," she said softly as she played with the hem of the jersey, "I'm sorry I can't do more to help you win…"

He grabbed her and pulled her into a tight hug. "No, it's fine. This is enough."

**

* * *

Spain 2-0 Honduras**

Spain cheered as the final whistle blew, securing his victory. "Yes!" This was how it was supposed to be. He was a winner, so he was supposed to win like this. It was only natural.

"Nice job," Prussia smirked as he entered the locker room, "You've still got Chile to go though."

"Oh, I can take Chile," Spain smiled, "He was my little henchman once upon a time you know."

"So was Honduras. Hell, half the nations in this thing were once your henchmen."

"No, just those two. And Romano. And Mexico."

"Paraguay, Uruguay, and Argentina too, don't forget them," Prussia smirked at him, "they'll probably be after your head like they always do. Argentina can actually take it this time! Kesese!"

"Don't worry about me. I can handle myself." The smile he gave Prussia was all the assurance of those words the former nation needed.


	3. The Ulitmate FootballSoccer Showdown

"N-no," England panted as he fell to his knees, "There's nothing more…I can't…" Spain, France, and Germany were already lying in defeat not too far away. America was in the same condition as him, conscious but barely standing, unable to do anything but watch as this new opponent did what he pleased over their defeated bodies.

"You bastard!" the American was able to bark, "Don't you even have anything to say for yourself?"

"America, no!" but it was too late. He turned those dark, soulless eyes towards them, opened his mouth, and…

"BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ."

The walls shook as Vuvuzela continued his unending assault, causing the walls to shake and the very fabric of time and space to distort themselves. America and England covered their ears, but it was a futile effort. Nothing they could do could stop that sound that had already destroyed everything they've ever known from penetrating their meager defenses.

_This is it,_ England thought, _after everything we've been through…to have it end like this…_ he glanced over and saw his thoughts plastered across America's face.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a football soared through the air, hitting Vuvuzela smack in the face, shutting him up, for now at least.

"What the…" both he and America turned to see someone stepping through the cracks in the stadium walls caused by Vuvuzela's last attack, sheep following not too far behind.

"C-Canada?" America stared in awe. The figure slumped in a fit of depression.

"Idiot! That's not Canada!" the newest intrusion looked up, surprised but glad that England recognized him, "It's clearly Australia," only to sink back into his depression.

"It's me! New Zealand!" he declared, "Remember? England you raised me! And America, you made all those movies at my house!"

"Oh yeah…" they said in unison.

By this time, Vuvuzela recovered and stood to glare at his new opponent.

"Oh no," England grit out as America shifted slightly to tack a defensive position, wincing as he did so.

Vuvuzela took a deep breath and exhaled the loudest "BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ" yet, this time forcing the former superpower to his knees as the wall of sound headed straight for New Zealand.

"New Zealand!" England shouted as his former colony was hit head on, thinking the little guy didn't stand a chance. As the smoke and dust of the attack cleared though, New Zealand was still standing, perfectly unharmed.

"Is that all you got?" he smirked as his sheep coughed up another football, "My turn," New Zealand pulled his foot back and delivered a mighty kick, sending the ball once again at Vuvuzela's face.

"You can't keep changing the fabric of destiny to serve your whims just because you can!" the nation declared as the sheep coughed up yet another ball for him, "This is everyone's world, and we have to share it!" Vuvuzela glared and took another deep breath, only to be stopped by a football to the face, "You can't do this, no…**I won't let you do this**!" Another football led to another swift kick to the face.

This time, however, Vuvuzela was able to stop it with an unholy "BZZ" and send it flying New Zealand's way at a speed that would surely take the island nation out.

"No!" America managed to jump in front of the ball, catching it with the last of his strength and saving the other nation before collapsing back into the dirt.

"America!" England and New Zealand shouted.

"New Zealand…" he pant out, "you have to…stop…him…" America closed his eyes and knew no more.

The last nations standing bowed their heads. "Don't worry America," New Zealand muttered, "I will."

Vuvuzela, during all of this, turned his attention to the completely defenseless England.

"Go ahead, twat," England smirked, annoying until the end, "do your worst."

"England no!" New Zealand shouted as Vuvuzela took a final deep breath, preparing the attack that would finally finish off the great United Kingdom once and for all.

Thinking quickly, New Zealand grabbed the football America dropped when he fell and placed it by his feet. He brought his foot back behind him and kicked it forward as hard as he could. This time it hit Vuvuzela in the stomach, winding him once and for all and forcing him to collapse on the dirt in front of England. New Zealand swiftly launched another football at his head, which was followed up his sheep brutally head-butting the same exact spot until the great evil that was Vuvuzela exploded in a bright light.

Everything that had happened finally caught up with England and he collapsed into the dirt.

"England!" New Zealand shouted as he ran forward to catch his mentor, "England! Are you okay?"

"Yes," England panted out, "I'm alright…but, the others…" he glanced around the field, eyes lingering on America's lifeless form.

"They'll be okay," New Zealand assured him, "Relax, England…you can sleep now. In the morning, this may all be just a bad dream…"

* * *

"And that's why I tied," England finished explaining, "because the very fabric of the world is being disrupted."

"Ha!" America laughed, "I think someone's just making excuses for their horrible performance today."

"The limey's gotta point!" Prussia slurred from his seat at the bar, "I's the only way we coulda…coulda…" he slumped forward in a new fit of tears as Spain tried ineffectually to cheer him up.

"England, you're being ridiculous," Greece stated, "sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose. It's just the way of life, I mean look at France," he nodded towards the nation who was currently passed out on Spain's other side for the second time in as many nights, "he was at the final with Italy last time, and this time, well…"

"But that's my bloody point!" England banged the table, "The only reason all of us decent teams are losing to wankers like the rest of you is because-"

"Oh pipe down old man," America shouted at him, more than a little tipsy, "It's the Year of the Underdogs, and you're just gonna hafta live with that. Besides…New Zealand? Really?" The nations at the bar looked over to where the island was sitting at a booth in the back with his wasted brother.

"Australia…you're going to have to get over that," he was saying.

"4-0…it's pathetic," the Aussie muttered into his arm.

"You have a game tomorrow…please snap out of it…"

The nations turned back to face England, who shrugged.

"Hey, it could happen."


	4. Groups 3

**France 1-2 South Africa**

France stared at the field in disgust. He didn't know what he hated more at this moment, the players, the coach, South Africa, the game, or himself. He was willing to settle for a combination of all of the above. At least he was able to score one goal, but really, that just wasn't enough.

South Africa was glaring at him on the other side of the field, triumphant look on the host country's face. At least he let the host snag a victory, but when was the last time the host didn't advance?

Either way, France wasn't looking forward to what England, Prussia, and Spain had to say about this, or about flying home coach.

**

* * *

Nigeria 2-2 South Korea**

"Yes!" Korea cheered. A tie. Not the win he was hoping for, but it was close enough, unless Greece managed to beat Argentina. That would be an absolute downer on his parade.

He looked expectantly at the guy on the bench keeping track of Greece's game. He grinned back and gave the nation a thumbs up. Greece had lost. South Korea and Argentina were in.

Korea's cheer outshone the vuvuzelas and was heard all the way in China. His brother quickly phoned to congratulate him and told him to keep it down, because he was sleeping.

**

* * *

Greece 0-2 Argentina**

Greece stared at the smirking Argentina. The South American was already going on despite the outcome, but he found out too late that didn't mean Argentina would go easy on him. Not that Greece knew anyone in this thing that would have done that, including himself, he was just disappointed about going home already.

It was a fun run though, and who knows? Maybe they'd let him stay to cheer on Japan.

**

* * *

Slovenia 0-1 England**

"DO YOU SEE THIS?" England shouted in Slovenia's defeated face, "THIS IS WHY I AM THE CHAMPION! YOU DO NOT MESS WITH THE CHAMPION!"

"You want to shout that a little louder, _Angleterre_?" France scoffed, jealously, "I'm trying to watch the end of _Amerique_'s game."

"You're just jealous that America and I get to advance and you don't."

"Not necessarily. You know America hasn't scored yet…" the frog smirked, glad for some company on the flight home, even if it was American.

"What are you talking about? He's probably scored by now."

"_Non_, take a look," England and Slovenia leaned over France's shoulder to see his cell. The other game in Group C was indeed still scoreless, "Well, by defeating Slovenia, it looks like you made it harder for America to advance…"

"Serves him right!" the English nation scoffed, "He only drew with me thanks to a lucky goal…it's just karma, for him being cocky."

"You were the only one acting cocky in this group," Slovenia muttered.

"He scored before," France explained, "but it wasn't allowed again…"

"Che," England crossed his arms and pretended to be disinterested with what was happening on the screen, but secretly cheering America on.

**

* * *

USA 1-0 Algeria**

To say America was pissed when his perfectly legit and brilliant goal was declared illegal _again_ was an understatement, but no nation had actually been thrown out of the World Cup yet for murdering a ref, and America didn't want to be the first. So he sat back and waited for another chance like that to be allowed.

And waited.

And waited some more.

They were now in stoppage time and Algeria was smirking at him.

"A tie doesn't benefit you either you know!" the African's smirk just grew and he knew that Algeria didn't care if he couldn't advance as long he made sure America _didn't_. Jerk, but he also knew America would do the same if the situations were reversed.

Instead of continuing the staring contest with Algeria like he wanted to, America opted to turn back to the field just in time to watch the ball sail into the goal. The ball kicked off Donovan's foot, into Algeria's goal.

It took a few seconds for that to compute in his head, but when it did, shouting and screaming and a little bit of crying (but they were _manly_ tears) ensued.

A Hollywood Ending they were calling it, and America couldn't agree more.

**

* * *

Ghana 0-1 Germany**

Well, they had done it. Despite a few yellow setbacks, Germany had won the group, splendidly, he might add.

Prussia had already tackle hugged him and started shouting in his ear, making plans to buy the whole country drinks for the rest of the night. Germany considered stopping him, as spending that kind of money was irresponsible, but figured what they hey; today was a day for celebrating.

"Oi Kraut," an English voice called to him from the door of the locker room. Germany disentangled himself from his brother to go talk to England.

"Congrats on winning your group, I suppose," the blonde nation didn't like the smirk on England's face, "of course, now that means you'll have to face me," it was _far_ more confident than it had any right to be.

"I don't see the problem there," Germany knew he'd have fun wiping it from the so called creator's face.

**

* * *

Australia 2-0 Serbia**

Australia sighed in the locker room. He still hadn't moved, even though the match ended hours ago. Germany had only scored one goal against Ghana. If only he'd scored another. That would have made up the goal differential and…

Bah, he'd done all that awesome, but still lost out to that fail in the beginning. What a waste.

"Australia?" the nation in question looked up to see that New Zealand had snuck in front of him, "You going to be alright?"

He looked at his brother and saw worry in his eyes. That wasn't right though, because he had his own match tomorrow. He shouldn't waste time worrying about him when he still had a chance.

Australia ruffled New Zealand's hair, "Yeah kid, I'm gonna be okay."

**

* * *

Slovakia 3-2 Italy**

"N-no…" Italy sunk down to his knees, "w-we can't…i-it's impossible…" he slammed a frustrated fist into the ground as the first tears started falling, "**There's no way we could have _lost_**!"

He slammed his head into the ground and rubbed it in the dirt, falling tears turning it into mud, "No no no no no!"

Suddenly, Italy felt a warm embrace around him. The younger Italy looked up to find his brother, trying to hold back his own tears and look comforting, and opted to buried his face into Romano's shirt and cry there instead.

"Ch-cheer up, Veneciano," Romano muttered in what was supposed to be a comforting tone, "I-it's not the end of the world…"

"W-we lost, Romano…we actually lost…"

"There are worse things, little brother."

"We're last in the group…"

"E-even so…at least we're not France."

"No…he has an excuse…" Italy started sobbing and ineffectually pounding his fist into his brother's shoulder. Suddenly, Italy felt wetness on his head and vaguely wondered where it came from.

"D-don't cry Veneciano…" he heard Romano mutter in his ear, "p-please…I don't like it when you cry like this."

Italy pulled way to see that his brother's tears had finally spilled over as well.

"Ve, Fratello," he reached forward to run a thumb across Romano's cheek and wipe away his tears, "I don't like it when you cry like this either."

"Sh-shut up bastard…" he sniffled, "I-I'm not crying…I just don't want you to feel bad, sitting on the field, crying all by yourself."

"Ve, it's okay," Italy hugged his brother, "we can cry together. Spain and Germany don't have to find out…"

Romano sobbed and buried his head into Italy's shoulder to cry his heart out, and felt his brother do the same.

**

* * *

Paraguay 0-0 New Zealand**

Another tie. Well, it was better than a loss, though it was still weird going home without actually losing a game, New Zealand shrugged. It was depressing, but those were the facts of life, or at least, the facts of the World Cup.

"Hey New Zealand!" Australia shouted at him when he exited the locker room, "Congrats on not losing mate! Let's celebrate!"

"But…I didn't win. And I'm going home."

"Yeah, but you got so close! Just one goal away! And besides, you did awesome mate! We need to celebrate that at least."

"I think you're just looking for an excuse to celebrate."

"Not just any reason," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at England, who was already drinking heavily, and America, who was laughing rather loudly, "A reason that _isn't _centered on them. They agreed to celebrate _you_ for a change, so let's take advantage of that, eh?" he winked.

New Zealand blushed at the fact that they were going to pay attention to _him_ for once, even if it was just for a night.

"Hey Canada!" America shouted as he waved them over. "Come on! We gotta get there before Slovakia and his peeps take over the bar!"

"Yeah, c'mon Australia, and bring yer clone with ya!" England shouted.

Well, that was close enough, New Zealand sighed as he went off with his surrogate family.

**

* * *

Denmark 1-3 Japan**

"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" Denmark shouted as he collapsed into the dirt, "I was so close!"

Japan stood awkwardly next to him. "I'm sorry you lost."

"If you were really sorry, you'd have let me win," he whined, "C'mon, a tie would have done it for you. Were the three goals necessary?"

"I…suppose not. I'm quite sorry for the inconvenience."

"You should be…crushing my hopes like that," suddenly he stood up and smirked as he leaned over the smaller nation, "I expect compensation, if you know what I mean."

"I don't see why I have to pay you anything."

"You don't do you? Well I – ow!" Norway had appeared over his shoulder with a baseball bat and gave him a swift whack to the head.

"You lost. It happens," he explained as he pulled the other Scandinavian away, "get over it. Japan owes you nothing."

"Congratulations for you win Japan," Finland smiled as Sweden nodded, "we all hope you do well in the round of 16."

"You probably won't get very far after that," Iceland taunted over his shoulder as the Nordics walked away.

Well, if that's what they thought, Japan would just have to prove them wrong.

**

* * *

Cameroon 1-2 Netherlands**

"Not necessary," Netherlands complained as he lit his pipe.

"What wasn't?" Cameroon responded.

"You putting up a fight like that," he exhaled smoke that drifted towards the ceiling, "that just wasn't necessary."

"Well, if you're going to represent the group, I want to make sure you go all the way."

Some more smoke was exhaled, but more in a contemplative manner.

"Of course I'll win. This is _my _year after all."

**

* * *

Spain 2-1 Chile**

"Oh cheer up my little henchman," Spain said as he panted Chile's head, "you still get to go on to the next round if Switzerland still failed to score."

"He did," Chile sighed and batted his hand away, "And I'm _not_ your henchman!" The South American got up and wandered away.

Spain was about to chase after Chile until a head but to the gut stopped him.

"Ah, Romano!" he smiled as he hugged his favorite, "Did you see Boss play magnificently?"

"I saw you wander around the field and get two lucky shots in," Romano said as he broke out of the embrace.

"Oh, Romano, why so mean? Is it because you-"

"Don't! Say it." The Italian sat done on the bench next to Spain, "Oi, bastard."

"Yes?"

"There's been enough loss on our side of the continent," Romano muttered as he turned to face Spain with a rare serious look in his eyes, "Don't mess up."

"Don't worry Romano," the Spaniard's smile had a slight edge to it this time, "I won't lose again. Boss won't let you down."

**

* * *

Switzerland 0-0 Honduras**

"You…" Switzerland ground out. He missed having a gun at his side, they were so useful in times like these, but apparently not even nations were allowed weapons at these things.

"Me," Honduras answered with a smirk.

"Nothing would have changed if you had won! This tie does nothing for you!"

"Of course not, but no one gets out of the group stages without earning it," his smile, sarcastic or otherwise, was gone; "Did you actually expect me to just _let_ you win? Even if you beat Spain, he's not the top of this sport. You wouldn't have stood a chance against Brazil."

"And you think Chile does?"

"Nope."

"Then why-"

"Why not?"

Switzerland _really_ wanted a gun right now, but a fist could get the job done just as well.

"Just wait until next time."


	5. CONCACAF Buddies

**This was actually written for the kink meme. Prompt: **_What happens before and after some of the matches at the World Cup_. **The idea of CONCACAF teams being all bffls during the World Cup was already in my head, so I figured "Why not?"**

**This was written right after the US vs. Algeria, England vs. Slovenia, Germany vs. Ghana, and Australia vs. Serbia games, so it takes place then too I suppose.  
**

**Enjoy.  
**

* * *

Mexico sat and waited outside of the locker rooms. She saw Algeria and Slovenia leave, in tears, and England leave, already partying. She said hi to Germany, Ghana, Australia, and Serbia when they went in, and Australia asked her if she needed him to wait with her, but she said she was fine, but to tell America to hurry the hell up, because they really needed to go.

Australia apparently delivered his message speedily because America was outside a few moments later.

"Haha, sorry about that," he laughed nervously, "Everyone's still kinda partying."

Mexico glared, but there wasn't any malice in it. Her boys were still partying somewhere too, either that or training.

"I suppose I should congratulate you on your win then?" His grin widened in anticipation, "I'm not going to."

"Aw, why not?"

"It's just going to go to your head, and god knows your ego doesn't need the boost," she smirked and America knew she was just being playful.

"True enough, I guess. Should we get going?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

They ended up at a bar that South Africa took them all to on their first night in town. It became the place for nations to hang out with each other and their fans after the matches, and sure enough, England and his fans had already painted the place red and white.

"America!" the green eyed nation shouted as the two of them entered the bar, "There ya are!" a red faced England stumbled away from the group of English fans he was with to sling an arm around the younger nation, "Was lookin' for ya! C'mon an' 'ave a pint!"

"Maybe later England," he carefully disentangled himself and led him back over to his fans, "there's something I've got to do first."

"Yer loss there…" he shouted as he was handed over, "I might not be conscious by then! 'Nother round for everyone in the bar!" England shouted, to the cheers of everyone else in the bar. Mexico and America grabbed their drinks, with America snatching a third, and made their way through the crowd to the booth in the back corner, where Honduras was waiting for them.

"What took you two so long?" he asked as America handed him his drink.

"_Someone_ was still gloating in the locker room," Mexico stared pointedly at America as he sat down across from them.

"Haha shut up."

"So…" Honduras asked after he sipped his drink with a blush, "H-how's Bornstein doing?"

"He's thrilled and celebrating, just like the rest of the team."

"You want to give him a call and _congratulate _him Honduras?" Mexico mocked with a smirk. America laughed as he lightly shoved her.

"Sh-shut up…" he muttered and blushed some more before asking, "Who paid for this round?"

"England," Mexico nodded towards the Englishman, who had somehow lost his shirt.

"Think we can get him to buy the next one?"

"Pft, losers buy," America stated, "that's how it's always been. This one was just a gift."

"So, Mexico's paying?"

"Hey, I'm advancing. That's a win in my book. Besides, I bought drinks yesterday!"

"But America won, so who's buying?" the other two stared at him, "…I already bought the rounds for the loss against Spain!" They kept staring, "You both suck."

America and Mexico shared a laugh that was infectious enough to get Honduras going too.

Honduras bought the next few rounds, much to his chagrin. Half way through the third, Germany and Prussia stumbled into the bar and announced their victory by buying everyone drinks, which the three of them greedily took. From then on, Prussia bought everyone drinks.

Eventually all of the nations in the bar, which ended up also including Australia, New Zealand, Spain, and France, ended up at their booth, which was fine, until England, drunk as a skunk, passed out right there on the table after shouting obscenities at France. America decided it was probably best to bring him back at that point.

"Oh, Honduras," he stopped to say after he got England securely on his back, "your match is Friday right?"

"Yeah…" he muttered, "Against Switzerland."

"No!" Spain lunged across the table to drag him into a hug, "you must be careful my lil' henchmen! He is heartless! Heartless I say!"

"Let go of me. I'm not your henchmen anymore," he muttered as he sipped his beer, "And you beat me pretty good already."

"But…but…" the Spaniard cried as he was dragged back to his side of the table by his friends.

"So, we'll meet here after you lose so you can buy us drinks?" Mexico smirked. Honduras lightly punched her shoulder.

"I'm not going to lose…maybe."

"You're so going DOWN!" Prussia felt the need to shout at that moment. Mexico kicked him under the table as America smacked his head.

"See you two then. I'll send Bornstein your love, Honduras!" He laughed as Honduras slid deeper into the booth, face scarlet, muttering his "Shut ups" as Mexico taunted him.

And with that, America was on the long walk back to the hotel.

"Oi," an English voice said in his ear, "Why didn' ya wanna drink with me?"

"I did drink with you!"

"Not a' first…" he muttered.

"Jealous much?"

"A-absolutely not ya bloody…jus' wonderin'…"

"…Half of the guys in this thing are from your conference," America answered after a while, "but…it's just the three of us. We just want to stick together, I suppose."

"Mm…sentimental git."

"I suppose," he chuckled, "Does that mean I have your forgiveness for ditching you?"

"Mm," England hummed. Moments later a light snoring entered America's ears.

America looked up at the moon, somehow brighter here in South Africa, though it might just have been the joy of victory making it so. Vaguely, he wondered if Honduras did lose, he could set him up with Bornstein to make it up for him…

* * *

**-CONCACAF - **The Confederation of North, Central, and Caribbean Association Football. **This conference consists of all of North America, Central America, and the Caribbean islands, aka US, Mexico, and Honduras, as well as Canada, Cuba, Costa Rica, Trinidad and Tobago, El Salvador, and a whole slew of others that I can't/don't feel like naming, but hopefully you get the idea. **

-**Bornstein is a defender for the US team. He scored the winning goal in the US vs. Costa Rica game in the qualifiers, which really didn't do anything for the US since we were already in, but it made Honduras qualify for the World Cup. He is now their national hero, thus why Honduras is crushing on him.**


	6. A Glass of Defeat

**Written to ease the pain of US and England's defeats.**

**Enjoy.  
**

* * *

England tilted his head back and downed his pint in one mighty gulp. "I shoulda won!" he complained.

"Hm," America halfheartedly agreed as he played with his own glass, chin resting on the bar. He'd given up trying to protest England on that face after the third drink.

"It was there!" the island nation lamented again, "It was right there in the goal! And that bloody ref just snatched it away from me! Gone just…poof! Away just like that!"

"Yeah…poof and s'all gone…"

"Exactly!" he exclaimed before sighing and signaling the bartender for another pint, "Ya dunno how it feels to have your goal just snatched away from you in your moment of triumph!" England snatched the new drink when it was handed to him and slammed his fist on the table, "No one knows my pain!"

"Yeah, 'cause I dunno what it's like t'have a perfectly legit goal not counted for no reason," America snorted, "Or have it called _off-fucking-sides_ when s'clearly on."

Oh yeah…that had happened to him. "Che, those dun count. You beat 'em in the end."

"Yeah?" America turned his head to look up at him, "Well even if ya did score, Germany beat ya by _three_ goals," he sat up and poked England between his eyebrows, "Ya still woulda lost old man!"

"Oh piss off," England muttered as he batted the hand away, "Ya know as well as I do that I woulda rallied back if it went in."

"Ain't it jus' karma from '66?"

"Bah, who asked you anyway," he lifted his glass to take another drink when he noticed what his companion was wearing. He probably noticed before, but wasn't nearly drunk enough to ask about it, "Why're ya wearing that?"

"Hm?" America tugged at the white English team jersey he was sporting, "Ya gave it t'me after the first game."

"I know that git! Why're ya wearin' it now?"

The younger nation frowned and contemplated the question as he took another sip of beer, "I was supportin' ya since I was out 'n all that…"

The drink was getting to England. That was why his cheeks were so red. "Sorry to disappoint ya…"

"S'cool, least ya didn' lose to fricken' Ghana. Germany's Germany and he's probably gonna win the whole thing 'nyway. He like, invented the sport or somthin'."

"That was me wanker!" he drove that point home with a punch to his shoulder.

"Yeah, sorry, forgot. Knew it was someone in Europe. He's still really good though, and the octopus said he'd win, and you should never doubt the octopus England," he turned to face the older nation with a deadly serious look on his face, "Never."

"Duly noted," they sank into a comfortable silence, dealing with their own frustrations internally, until America broke it.

"Stupid sport anyway…"

"What, football?"

"No, football's awesome. Soccer's lame."

England tilted back the rest of his drink and slammed the empty mug on the counter, "Che, you're just sayin' that 'cause you lost."

"I only lost 'cause it's stupid…" he leaned his chin back on the bar and turned away so he didn't have to look at the other, "Stupid sport…not like I cared anyway…"

"Ya would say that," England muttered into his drink, "Jus' pretend to hide behind your little 'I dun care 'bout anyone attitude 'n all that…are you even listening to me?" he tugged on America's shoulder until the other nation turned around to face him so England could clearly see that he was really crying.

Oh…

"C'mon now lad…" he helped the younger nation sit up, "stop yer tears now. S'not that bad."

"I wanted to win…jus' once…" America instead rested his head on England's shoulder and cried there, "Y'all already won…"

"There there," he rubbed comforting circles into his back, "Everyone wants to win, but only a few of us actually have y'know. 'N my last one was awhile ago now."

"But…" America sniffled, "they were all watchin' 'n payin' attention for once…everyone at my house was so happy 'n now they probably all hate me."

"Yer people aren't French. 'M sure they still like you."

"I like…playing with everyone," he muttered into England's shoulder, "'n now everyone's jus' gonna hate soccer again 'n I'll never get to play with y'all again…"

"There not gonna turn their backs on the sport jus' 'cause ya lost. America ya played so well 'n surprised everyone who thought you couldn' do anything. Yer gonna come to Brazil with us, I can tell. They'll come 'n cheer for ya again in 2014 again, dun worry."

America pulled away and wiped the remaining tears from his eyes, "Really? I did good?"

"Ya did well. Very well. I'm, uh…I guess I'm…proud of ya…" he blushed and adverted his eyes.

"Ya did good yerself, for an ol' man 'nyway," his smirk didn't diminish even after England's half hearted glare. "So, next round on me?"

"All rounds are on ya t'night remember?"

"Yeah, so ya dun go kill Germany 'n Prussia…" America grabbed the glass the bartender placed in front of him and waved it in the air. "A toast! To Ghana cracking under the pressure!"

England grabbed his drink as well, "To Argentina thrashing Germany!"

"To Japan upsetting everyone!"

"To Brazil being Brazil!"

"To Brazil hosting this thing in four years!"

"To 2014!"

"To there always being a next time!"

England knocked his glass against America's "I'll drink to that."

* * *

-**_karma from '66_ - 1966 - England beats West Germany with the help from a goal that didn't quite go in but was counted. Sound familiar?**

**-_the octopus said he'd win - _Paul, a psychic octopus, has so far correctly chosen the outcome for all of Germany's matches, including the Serbia upset. He has also picked Germany to beat Argentina, but he took an hour to do it, so it might go into penalty kicks.**

**-_Yer people aren't French. 'M sure they still like you. - _Actually not supposed to be the whole 'French hate Americans' stereotype, but a reference to how the French are hating on their coach and team right now.**


	7. Sweet 16

**So, after this, the only Hetalia nations left are Germany, Spain, and Netherlands**. **That means only three drabbles next time...**

**Enjoy anyway.  
**

**

* * *

Uruguay 2-1 South Korea**

"Damnit!" Korea punched the nearby wall as the ref blew the final whistle. He caught Uruguay smirking at him out of the corner of his eye. A smirk that clearly said _you can't beat South America. This is our year._

Korea, being the stubborn nation that he was, opted to smirk right back. After all, South America had to lose at _some _point, and aniki still had his match.

One way or another, they would go down, and Korea would laugh when they did.

**

* * *

USA 1-2 Ghana**

America didn't say anything as the ref blew the whistle. He didn't look at anyone as he bypassed the mob of reporters and went into the locker room. Once there, positive his team wouldn't interrupt him, he leaned his head against one of the lockers and delivered a quick punch, causing the line of lockers to fold in on themselves.

Suddenly, America felt arms around him and heard a voice behind him, "You know you'll have to pay for that, _Amerique_."

The young nation popped his head up and swiveled around to see England flashing a comforting smile up at him and France lounging on one of the benches. "What are you…?"

"All of the action is still here," France shrugged, "and I don't feel like going home yet."

"You did very well America," England stated, "You got farther than any of us thought you would."

"So," France stood up walked over to place a hand on his shoulder, "Don't feel bad. You did much better than I did."

America wrapped his arms around both of them in a tight hug. "Thanks guys."

**

* * *

Germany 4-1 England**

Prussia shouted and jumped in the air, unable to contain his glee. Germany opted to let a small smile come to the surface instead.

One down…

"That was complete bollocks and you know it!" an irate Englishman shouted at them from across the field.

Prussia laughed in his face, "Even if it did count, four is still a bigger number than two, little England."

"Rubbish. You know psychology is half the game. Going into the half 2-2 is completely different then going in 2-1!"

Germany offered him a smirk, "Let's just consider us even for '66 then."

"Exactly! Kesesese!"

England ground his teeth in frustration and pounced on the German brothers, only to be pulled back by an American arm.

"C'mon England," America said as he tossed the other nation over his shoulder, "let's get some alcohol into your system before you accidentally on purpose kill someone."

"No! Let me go wanker! I must hurt them!" he kicked and flailed in an attempt to get at the brothers, who continued laughing in glee until they couldn't hear England's protests anymore.

"So West," Prussia asked when they calmed down a bit, "What was it that happened in '66?"

**

* * *

Netherlands 2-1 Slovakia**

Netherlands yawned and leaned back on the bench. 2-0. Was Slovakia even trying? How boring.

Suddenly one of his guys tripped one of Slovakia's in the box. That meant penalty kick, which was, of course, scored, bringing the game to a more exciting 2-1.

But then the whistle blew, signaling the end of the match and Netherland's victory.

He yawned as he stood up. Hopefully Brazil would provide more of a challenge.

**

* * *

Japan 0-0 Paraguay. Penalty Shoot out: 5:3 Paraguay**

Japan sat on the edge of his seat, clenching and unclenching his fists on his knees, trying not to breathe lest that affect the result somehow.

If he missed, then they were still in it. If Kawashima managed to save it, he could still win this.

But he was sent the wrong way. And the ball went in. And his team and his coaches and his fans were now sad and upset.

He tried so hard too…

"Hey," Japan looked over to see Greece and Italy waving at him.

"Tough break," Greece went on.

"Ve, don't feel bad Japan. At least you made it to the round of sixteen! I couldn't even do that this year."

"Besides, you lost to South America. They've all but got it in the bag this year."

"True…" Italy sighed and looked depressed before perking right back up again, "Ve, I have an idea! Let's get ice cream to celebrate!"

"Italy-kun…I hate to bring down your mood," Japan stated hesitantly, "but there's not much to celebrate."

"You had to go through penalty kicks, and I know how hard those can be!"

"That's not really a celebration though…"

"Its ice cream Japan," Greece said as he put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "it doesn't need a reason.

_Fair enough,_ Japan silently thought as he followed his friends. He may not have a World Cup trophy yet, but at least he had them.

**

* * *

Spain 1-0 Portugal**

"Yay!" Spain cheered as Portugal sulked, "I won!"

He immediately ran over to the part of the stands he knew Romano was sitting in. After scanning the cheering crowd for a minute, he found his cute little Italian and waved at him.

"Did you see that Romano? Boss won! We're going all the way this year! Aren't you proud of me?"

Romano gave him a funny look and shouted something at him, but he couldn't hear him over the swarm of bees that seemed to be everywhere this World Cup.

"I can't hear you Romano!" he shouted up at him, "I'm going to come up to you!"

The Italian continued to look at him with that same expression before he saw the Spaniard climb up into the stands. He started shaking his head and waving his hands and shouting stuff, which made him look adorable, but Spain still couldn't hear him, so he made his way through the crowd, somehow unscathed, because they were really excited about the win, until he was right in front of his Romano,

"You bastard! What the hell did you think you were doing climbing into the stands like that! I'm pretty sure FIFA's going to be all over your ass now!" Oh good, he could hear him now.

"But Romano, I couldn't hear what you were saying, so Boss had to come closer…" Spain pouted at him, "So, what were you saying?"

"I was _saying_ that I couldn't hear your stupid voice over the vuvuzelas!"

"Vuvu what now?" Romano facepalmed.


	8. Elite 8

**Down to the last few games here. Good thing all three got through, but now Germany has to face Spain in an epic showdown of the Italies. Don't know what I'm talking about? Wait and see...**

**Enjoy, and good luck to the remaining teams! Even you, Uruguay...  
**

**

* * *

Netherlands 2-1 Brazil**

Netherlands had no idea what to do.

It had been hours since the game had ended and Brazil was still lying on the ground, muttering about how it was his game, how he was the best, and how he should have won. Really, the whole display put quite a damper on dethroning him.

"Come on," he sighed as he lightly tapped the other nation with his foot, "get up."

"Is he still down?" France chuckled as he approached.

"What are you still doing here?"

"I don't want to go home yet. Can you blame me?" he kneeled down to Brazil's level to check on him, "How's he doing?"

"He hasn't moved since he lost."

"Yes, I beat him last time," France nodded, "apparently he does this whenever he loses in a World Cup match."

"Really? That's kind of…"

"No, shut up!" Brazil launched up into a sitting position, "This is a big deal for me! I was favored to win this year!"

"_Mon cher_, you're favored to win every year."

"I still haven't won in Africa!"

"Dude, this is the first time it's been in Africa," Netherlands stated as he lit his pipe, "_No one_ has won in Africa. It'll come back to the continent again."

"I-I haven't won it in a while!"

"You won in 2002, when Japan and Korea were hosting, remember?"

"…That's not this decade."

"It's 2010," France said, "this decade just started. And you're hosting it next year. I'd be shocked and appalled if you didn't win it at your house."

"…I guess you're right France," he leaned backward and jumped up onto his feet to turn and smirk at Netherlands, "You better come to my house prepared. I'm not going easy on you again."

"No worries," he smirked right back as he exhaled some smoke; "I'm not going to be an easy champion to beat."

Brazil's smile widened at that.

**

* * *

Germany 4-0 Argentina**

The second goal, in Germany's opinion, was completely necessary. The third one was more of a security blanket, just to make absolutely sure they won. The fourth, he could admit, was a bit of an overkill.

But still, it was a completely necessary goal. And they had earned it. And when had that stopped him before?

"Who's on top of this sport now!" Prussia taunted at a glaring Argentina, "Brazil's out, Paraguay's gonna be out, you just went DOWN. What now South America? What now!"

"Please control yourself," Germany tried to reign in his brother's excitement, but it was hard when he was pretty excited as well.

"Germany!" both German nations turned to see Italy fighting the crowd to get to them, decked out in red, black, and gold to show his support. Argentina shot them all one last glare before stomping away.

"Germany congratulations!" Italy shouted as he threw his arms around the bigger nation's neck and jumped into his arms.

"What about me Italy?" Prussia smiled, "I won too!"

"Ve, that's right!" Germany let him go to run over and drag Prussia into a hug too, "Congratulations Prussia!" He saw his brother cop a feel of the Italian's ass, but was still too excited about the win to be as upset as he normally would. Still, when he and Italy parted, Germany smacked the albino on the head.

"Germany, Germany! You're going all the way to the final right? Even if you have to face Spain?"

"Kesese," Prussia laughed, "He won't know what hit him! We're going all the way little Italy! No worries."

"Good." Germany noticed the slight competitive spark in Italy's eyes that he only got to see when the other nation was playing football, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that.

His eyes had the same spark anyway.

**

* * *

Spain 1-0 Paraguay**

Well, that was a nail biter, but in the end, Spain had triumphed over his former henchmen.

"I'm not your henchman! Get off of me!" Paraguay shouted before kicking him in the shin and stalking off, muttering about stupid refs and off-side goals.

Spain ended up sitting on the ground, still smiling about his win, until he felt a fist hit his head and heard a shout of "Bastard!" He looked up to see Romano glaring at him.

"Romano!" Spain jumped up and dragged the other nation into a tight hug, "Did you watch Boss play? I won! Isn't it great?"

"You're such an idiot!" he felt Romano's ineffectually punches and pulled back to see he was almost in tears.

"Romano, what's wrong?"

"You are! Why did you scare me like that bastard?"

Scare? He didn't know when he had time to scare Romano…he had been playing football for the past 90 minutes.

Oh wait…

"Romano, did you think Boss would lose?"

"N-no! Bastard," he sniffled, "it just…you could have scored sooner you know!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry," he ignored the faint "wasn't worried," Romano muttered and continued, "I'll score earlier next time so you don't have to okay?"

"You better, jerk. You better beat those potato bastards!"

"No worries Romano," he smirked, which sent shivers down Romano's spine. Good shivers, shivers that reassured him of Spain's ability to win, "I'll win."

* * *

** Fun facts about the Brazilian Football Team:**  
-Brazil has won 5 World Cups. The most of any other country. (Italy is second with 4. West Germany 3, Uruguay and Argentina 2, and France and England have 1.)  
-Brazil has won on every continent that's hosted except Africa. (Sweden, Chile, Mexico/USA, Japan and South Korea.)  
-Brazil has won at least once a decade except in the 30s when the World Cup first started, the 40s when the World Cup was on break for WWII, and the 80s.  
-Brazil is the only non-European team to win in Europe. (Europe also can't win outside of Europe, but that's another story.)  
-Brazil is one of two teams to be able to win the World Cup back to back (1958, 1962). The other is Italy (1934, 1938).  
-Brazil is the only team that has been in every World Cup. (Italy didn't qualify in 1968.)  
-The longest Brazil has gone without winning a World Cup is 5 times (1974-1990).  
-A Brazilian, Ronaldo, holds the record for the most goals scored in a World Cup, 15. Klose from Germany currently has 14.  
-The last time Brazil hosted was 1950 (yeah, the Miracle on Grass world cup. Wiki it if you don't know what I'm talking about and get your mind blown.). Uruguay won, Brazil got second. Skip ahead to 1958 and this guy named Pele joined the team. Brazil keeps winning after that.

The point of all that? No reason. Just sit back and bask in the awesome that is Brazilian football.


	9. Final 4

**Well this is a bit late. Since there's only two this time, there's a special bonus at the end.**

**Enjoy.  
**

**

* * *

Netherlands 3-2 Uruguay**

Netherlands leaned back against the wall and sighed, relieved. Uruguay put up quite a fight, but in the end, he and his boys were on their way to the finals, and he couldn't be happier. He even let himself show a small smile.

As the Uruguayans slumped of the field with their heads downcast, Netherlands heard a voice shout his name. He looked up to see Belgium, wearing a crazy orange ensemble like the rest of his fans, dragging Romano, who was stubbornly wearing red and yellow, he assumed to support Spain, towards him.

"Belgium? What are you doing here?" he asked, confused.

"To watch you of course," she laughed, "don't worry, Romano was able to sneak me in with an extra ticket one of his people decided not to use, so it's all good!"

He sighed but was pulled into a tight hug by his sister before he could say anything else.

"Congratulations. Really, I mean it. You deserve it so much. You're going to go all the way I can tell."

Netherlands was thrown off guard by the sudden display of affection, but wrapped his arms around his sister as well, "Thanks sis."

"Romano will support you too," she beamed as she pulled away, "Isn't that right Romano?"

"Uh, well," he looked at his feet and scratched the back of his head, "If the potato bastard wins, sure. But if Spain does win, I'll probably end up cheering for him…not because I want to, of course."

"Meanie," Belgium stuck out her tongue in a playful manner. Netherlands chuckled at the Italians typical behavior.

Whether he had Romano's support or not, the final was promising to be _very_ interesting.

**

* * *

Spain 1-0 Germany**

Germany was staring at the field in silence. So close, so very close and yet…

He was more worried about his brother, who he's pretty sure hadn't even drawn a breath after the goal. And now that the game was over, he was being awfully quiet, and Germany knew Prussia well enough to know that it was just the calm before the eventual storm.

"You're such a fucking cheater!" he shouted as he stormed over to where Spain was celebrating in the middle of the field by hugging an unwilling Romano. They both looked up when Prussia shouted.

"What? What do you think I did now?" Spain asked, confused.

"You're such a…I can't believe…" Prussia stomped in his frustration, "there's no way you could have fucking beat us!"

"Oh? Is that all?" Spain smirked and released Romano, "I think someone's just being a sore loser."

"Like hell I am!" Prussia snarled as he snatched the front of Spain's jersey, "This was _our year_!"

"Correction, this is _my year_," he slapped the hand away.

Just as the two of them started shouting expletives at each other, Italy found his way to Germany and jumped him with a hug.

"Ve, Germany, I'm sorry you lost to such an undeserving team like that…" he sighed as he squeezed him tighter.

"Undeserving?" Romano snapped his head from watching the bad friends go at it to his brother, "What do you mean Spain was undeserving?"

"I mean, he lost his first match to Switzerland," Italy went on, "Switzerland didn't even make it out of groups. And most of his victories have been him barely scraping by, where as Germany and his boys have been getting by on pure skill."

"Spain is the fucking European champion!" Romano shouted as his brother dismounted his German, "You don't get more skill than that, idiot! Your stupid potato bastard lost to Serbia. _Serbia_. At least Switzerland has skills!"

"Oh, but brother," Italy shook his head, "he only lost there because Spain cheated."

Germany mentally counted to three before Italy was tackled to the ground.

Normally in situations like this, Germany would have stepped in to stop these fights before someone got hurt. But really, he couldn't stop Prussia this time if he tried, and the fight between the Italies was more of a family feud after all…

What Germany really needed right now, were several beers. And maybe some wurst.

**

* * *

America and his Relationship with Soccer**

_A Few Years before the World Cup_

"So, America," FIFA asked, "are you getting ready for the World Cup? It's only a few years away, you know."

"Can't talk," America stared at the TV, "_Real_ football is on. Go bother Brazil or Mexico or something…" he waved his hands and shooed FIFA out of the room, who just shrugged and continued on his way.

_After the US Qualifies_

"So, America," FIFA said, "congratulations on qualifying for the World Cup." He handed the nation his pass to the event and a map of venues.

"Thanks!" America eagerly took the offered items, "I'm super excited this year! Maybe I'll actually be able to win a game!" he chuckled.

FIFA just smiled, "Don't worry. No one expects much from you."

"I guess," America sadly returned the smile as he pulled out his world map, "So where's South Africa again?"

_When the US Wins_

"Yes!" America cheered and tightly hugged FIFA. "I won! I won! This…this is such an amazing feeling!"

"Yes. Quite." FIFA made a few small attempts to break out of the hug.

"Seriously, man. You're amazing! I…I think I might love you."

"Of course," he almost found a way out, but America just pulled him closer.

"My team! Isn't my team just the best around?"

"They're alright," FIFA stated, "It's still a tough road ahead. I mean, you still don't stand a chance against the powerhouses like Brazil and company, but you should be able to beat the likes of New Zealand."

"Psh, why so negative? My boys will surprise you yet!" he squeezed FIFA even tighter, "We're going all the way this year, just you wait and see!"

_When the US Loses_

FIFA found America crying out his sorrows at the bar.

"I-it's the refs fault!" he sobbed into the organization's shoulder, "They always screw me over…"

"Your refs were fine."

"Stupid Ghana…she must have cheated."

"She didn't. Everyone's been playing fairly."

"Fairly? You call that game fair?"

"Yes. Of course. You got eliminated. It happens."

"B-but…but I tried so hard!"

"So does everyone else. Face it America, you're not all that special."

"Yeah? Well I don't need you anyway!" America pushed him away, "I…I hate you! I never liked you to begin with! It's not like I care, like everyone else. I don't _need _to follow the rest of the world. I have my _own_ athletic associations which are _so_ much cooler than you anyway!" he turned and pouted, very clearly bent on not engaging FIFA any further.

And that was fine with him, as he turned around and left the bar. He had other things to do anyway.

He just wished he didn't have to go through this with America every four years…


	10. The Finals

**And so we say farewell to the 2010 World Cup. I hope you all had as much fun as I did with it this year, and maybe I'll see you again in 2014?**

**Enjoy.  
**

**

* * *

Third Place: Uruguay 2-3 Germany**

The final whistle blew and Germany and Prussia cheered. At the very least, they could go home on a win.

"Germany!" an Italy shaped blob came out of nowhere to tackle him to the ground, "Congratulations Germany! You were amazing!"

"Th-thanks Italy," he muttered and blushed while Prussia laughed, "Please get off me." Instead of doing that, Italy opted to bury his face into Germany's chest.

"I-Italy? Are you crying?"

"S-sorry, it's just…I'm so happy you won!"

"It's only third place…"

"But you still did amazing, ve! Much better than me…"

"Italy…" He sat up to wipe some of the tears off of the other nation's cheeks.

"But," the Italian perked up and placed his hands on Germany's shoulders, "I'm going to train harder! Prepare yourself when we play at Brazil's house, Germany, because I'm going all the way again, ve!"

Germany smiled. He liked Italy best when he was happy like this.

"I'm not going down that easily."

Prussia stood a few feet away, a genuine smile on his face as he watched his brother and Italy.

"Prussia!" was all the warning he got before a Spanish mass tackle hugged him from behind, "Congrats on your win!"

"Spain let the nation breathe, _si'l vous plait._"

"Did you guys watch me?" Prussia asked excitedly, "Did you see how awesome I am?"

"_Oui_," France answered, "We did. You did a very nice job."

"You played great!" Spain smiled, "How did I manage to beat you again?"

"Luck," he responded before putting his hands on Spain's shoulders and taking a serious tone, "Spain, you better win tomorrow. Seriously, don't make my octopus wrong!" France chuckled from somewhere behind him.

"Don't sweat it guys," he grinned, "With you and Romano behind me, how can I possibly lose?"

"Kesese, with my awesome support, you can't lose!" He smirked as he threw his hands around his friends shoulders and sauntered out of the stadium, "C'mon let's go out! Drinks are on France!"

**

* * *

Final: Spain 1-0 Netherlands**

It was over. Spain had won. _He _had won. For the first time ever, _he_ was the World Champion. Spain laughed gleefully at that as he collapsed onto the ground, wincing slightly when he upset the broken ribs Netherlands gave him in the first half.

"Hey," Spain opened his eyes to see orange hovering above him, "…Good game," Netherlands extended a hand to help Spain up, which he eagerly took. As soon as he was on his feet, Spain dragged the other nation into a hug.

"_Si_! You were fantastic as well! Boss is very proud of you."

"You're not my boss anymore…I thought I made that clear," he didn't return the hug, but he didn't exactly back away.

"_Si_, you did. And the orange looks good on you, by the way."

Netherlands grumbled something that may have been his thanks before finally breaking away from the hug. A shout from over his shoulder caused both of them to turn to see Belgium, dressed in orange, approaching them.

"Congrats on the win Spain!" she said cheerily, "You earned it."

"Thank you very much!"

"C'mon bro," she grabbed Netherlands's hand and led him away, "let's go get drinks. My treat."

Spain waved to them until the disappeared off the field. Just as he was about to turn around, two blurs came from nowhere and tackled him to the ground again, upsetting his ribs again.

"Ow! France, Prussia," he called out, "Netherlands really did a number on me…"

"And yet you still won!" Spain looked up to see Prussia smirking down at him, "Congrats dude! I think you owe me and my octopus a little something for the victory though."

"I'm pretty sure you did absolutely nothing," France chuckled as he rolled off his friend to lie next to him, "But the octopus should get a reward of some kind."

"Pshaw, I taught Paul everything he knows," Prussia leaned back and smirked down at Spain, who just smiled back up at him.

"Thanks Prussia, I owe you one. Shall we go get drinks then?"

"Of course! France is paying!"

"Why am I always the one who pays?" Prussia and Spain just looked at him like he was crazy. "…Just wait until 2014."

"France," Prussia put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "if you can get your act together in four years, I can honestly say I'll be looking forward to it."

The trio shared a laugh and stood up, leaving the stadium. Just as they passed through the gates, Spain spotted someone in the corner that made him tell his friends he'd catch them later. They agreed, and he wasted no time running over to hug Romano as Prussia and France left.

"Romano! Did you watch Boss play? Did you see me win?"

"Yes, I saw you," he leaned his head on Spain's shoulder, "Congratulations bastard. You really did earn it this year."

"You're so cute when you're honest, Romano," the Italian blushed and turned his head away, but not before Spain snuck a kiss in on his forehead. "So, how does it feel to know you'll be sleeping with the World Champion tonight?"

Romano shot him an adorable glare before his face softened into a smirk, "I don't know…How does it feel to have a four time champion in your bed every night?"

"So it feels that amazing, huh?" Spain grinned and Romano rolled his eyes and kissed his cheek.

If he knew being the World Champion would be this wonderful, he would have done it a long time ago. Well, there's always next time…


End file.
